


Nicotine

by uaevuon



Series: In All Of Us [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Everyone is Trans, Gen, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4067308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uaevuon/pseuds/uaevuon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi Ackerman. Age 19. Pronouns: he/him or they/them. Non-binary. Drag queen. Designated male at birth. Designated “fuck you” at age 15. Drag name: Princess Dinah Might. Likes domesticated animals and tea. Hates people, bugs, and mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nicotine

I’m new here. New enough that I need to take rejected wigs from the other performers, carefully wash them until they look brand-new, and hope to God that I won’t burn them with a flat iron, because I don’t have enough of my own. New enough that most of my stage presence is in groups, rarely alone unless someone can’t make it that night or there’s some theme I fit. 

And yet, I broke Krista’s record for tips in my third week. She still hasn’t taken back the title. She’s the queen, of course, but everyone knows I’m a hit. 

Krista still likes me, for whatever reason. 

She’s ten years my senior and sweet and kind and she has a girlfriend who sort of hates me, but we live together and we’ve done so since I was fifteen, when she found me miserable and trying (read: failing) to beg on the street outside her apartment. I never tell her, but I’m so thankful she found me; begging from strangers probably would have led me to some sort of mental breakdown. Also incarceration. 

She couldn’t make me go back to school, but she did help me make a little money walking dogs and then, when I was sixteen, got me a job as a waiter at her drag bar. She was still a princess then, and the queen was this really old guy who managed to make himself look about thirty years younger in makeup. He owns the place now. 

It wasn’t until I actually got that job that I realised she was trans. I mean, I never knew she was a drag queen until I saw her on stage, and I was _pretty_ sure cis women don’t do drag. I also didn’t realise I was trans until then, either, so we all benefit from this particular brand of cisnormativity. 

(This bar is the only place I know of where the drag isn’t disgustingly misogynistic, and I wouldn’t want to work anywhere else.)

(The second part was a lie.)

So now we’re two non-binary, nicotine-addicted fuckups sharing an apartment and working as drag queens. What a world we live in. 

“Morning, bitch,” is Krista’s traditional opening upon rolling out of bed to see me making lunch. 

We usually get home from work around the same horrendous time of night; she’d shower first, I’d shower second and take at least three times as long making sure every bit of grime and sweat and caked-on makeup was gone from my skin, and when I get out of the shower she usually would be calling her girlfriend to wake her up for work at an even more egregious hour of morning. We’d both pass out at around the same time, and then I’d wake up in time to watch the sun rise, with deep bags under my eyes because I never get much more than three hours of sleep, and she’d drag herself out of bed around noon. 

In that time I’d probably make breakfast (read: bitter tea and a soft-boiled egg), clean the entire apartment save for Krista’s bedroom, and curse my entire existence when I inevitably run out of energy. 

She’d wake up, say hello, leave to buy groceries or whatever else she did during the day, and then I’d probably pass out on the couch or something before work. It was just a routine. 

If I’m honest with myself, I don’t actually know if Krista likes me. We don’t see much of each other. Days go by when her “Morning, bitch” is all she’ll say to me, and I won’t say a thing. But then every once in a while she’ll do something nice for me, for no reason at all (lord knows I don’t do anything nice for her), and I’ll wonder if maybe she does give a shit about me. 

Like the time she overheard me mumbling about being lonely and set up a date for me with a guy she thought I’d like. And then she promptly called him pretending I’d gotten a request from a super-secret spy agency to go undercover in a made-up country for the next six years when I told her that never in a million years would I date some random asshole I’d never met before. She’s good with the whole “read between the lines” thing. 

Enough about my roommate. If I’m going to tell you anything, I might as well talk about myself. 

I’m Levi. I’m nineteen. I smoke, and it’s gross and expensive and I know exactly what my lungs are going to look like if I live that long. I never graduated high school, but I got my G.E.D. a little over a year ago and I’m taking a class at a community college. It’s, uh, it’s a painting class. I’ve never really been good at academic shit, only just barely passed the exam, so I tried art instead. I like it, I guess. I don’t actually work for a spy agency, and I’m not actually on an undercover mission in Dijonmustland. I’d make a good assassin, though. 

I don’t want to talk about my childhood; considering I took to the streets, you can probably guess it wasn’t good. I’ve also considered doing porn or stripping for money. I’ve never fucked anyone, nor found anyone I wanted to fuck, and yet I keep thinking about making extra money in sex work. 

I mean I masturbate a lot. Solo porn would probably work out pretty well. 

I’m an unpaid intern at RECON -- I don’t remember what the initials are for exactly, but it’s a clinic and educational center for teenagers and young adults. You know, one of those places with a bowl of free condoms by the door, pamphlets from NIMH and Planned Parenthood everywhere, and ads for confidential STD testing. We also used to have a shitload of HRC pamphlets too, but Hanji got rid of them and replaced them with ones from queer nonprofits that aren’t so disgustingly transphobic. Anyway, I’d like to be a paid intern, but payment comes with certain jobs that I do not currently have. (Come to the trans youth group.)

I like music, the louder the better, even if I usually have to turn my brain off to listen to it without wanting to kill someone. I like animals, but if they shed I don’t want them living with me. 

...Yeah, this is getting boring. I’m boring myself. Go ask Krista about me. 

\---

Testimonials:

“He’s a pain in my ass. I’ve punched him more than once. But I love him, even when he makes me late for work because he mopped the kitchen right before I have to leave and won’t let me cross the floor until it’s dry. He vacuums under the couch, by the way.”  
Krista Renz

“He takes good care of Krista when I’m not around, so I guess he’s alright.”  
Ymir

“Good worker. Great ass. What, am I not supposed to say that? Have you _seen_ Levi’s ass? One time he told me to smack it and I swear that was one of the greatest experiences of my life. It _jiggles_.”  
Hanji Zoe

[long-winded and emotional speech about how Levi _truly cares for people_ and _has come so far from his days on the street_ , culminating in a teary and entirely insincere description of his hairstyle and how it symbolises his harsh and aloof exterior hiding the soft, tender, lovable person inside]  
Erwin Smith

“Levi’s kind of intimidating. I think he’s a pretty decent person though. He washed my bike once just because he was bored.”  
Jean Kirschtein

“I’ve only met him a handful of times -- technically most of those times were while he was in drag and playing the part, so I’ve only really met Levi himself twice. My first impression was that he was kind of an asshole, or at least really pissy. That hasn’t changed much. Dinah is pretty sweet though. She gave me candy.”  
Ilse Langnar

“Who? Oh, the short angry one? I hate him, he hates me.”  
RECON front desk worker, name withheld

“Destined for greatness.”  
Adam, manager of Ring of Fire drag bar


End file.
